Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Before being a hatchet man for illegal bars or an accountant that could cook books with finesse, Mordecai was a man of simple pleasures, like neat clothes and good books.

Alas, as previously stated, he was still a hatchet man. His precise shots could get interrupted, missions could lengthen due to his partners’ incompetence, and his wonderful suits often got messy. It was like this with Victor at Lackadaisy, but it was even worse working for Marigold Gang with the damn Savoy siblings.

The two were rapidly speaking in another language and laughing at his pinched expression. In Mordecai’s defense, being covered in blood isn’t something to be pleased about. At the halfway point to the hotel, he turned off his gun’s safety. The clicking shut them up, but they were still amused.

Nicodeme pulled the car up to the back of the hotel. He and his sister got out and stretched their backs while Mordecai carefully slid out of the back. He pitied the poor soul who would be tasked to clean the leather seats. When the Savoys went ahead of him, he gave himself a moment to rest against the cool wall of the alley. It was filthy, but the silent night and cool breeze were helping his heart rate significantly.

Mordecai wasn’t sure how long he was out there, but he stood up straight, adjusted his now crusty tie, and turned the safety of his gun back on. He was covered in grime, but that could not let other people see him as less of a professional.

Before he even got a chance to touch the doorknob, though, a basin’s worth of soapy water fell upon him from the window above. He looked up to see the shit-eating grins of Serafine and Nicodeme Savoy.

Another moment later, a towel on draped on top of him. Above him was the pitying stare of Ms. Brown, a girl living the floor above the Savoy’s. God, was it only his first week here?

———

Mordecai remembered his job interview with Mr. Sweet. Well, it was less of an interview and more of a meeting to double check that Mordecai knew what he was getting into.

“Now about your pay…” Asa had an unlit cigar in one hand and was slowly going through his desk drawers.
It was then that the door was slammed open. Mordecai instinctively went for his gun, but Asa didn’t even look up from what he was doing. A little girl was huffing and puffing in the doorway with some papers that she held with the same hand she leaned on a cane. As if her presence wasn’t strange enough, she held a large rooster underneath her free arm. She stood in front of the desk, next to the chair that Mordecai sat in. In his current position, she only came up a little below his shoulders.
She huffed at the larger man’s lack of reaction to her arrival. To Mordecai’s horror, she put her bird in his lap so she could freely rummage through her little rucksack. A few seconds later, she pulled out a cigar clipper and took back the rooster. The sound of her squeezing it a few times finally got a reaction out of Asa. He looked up and beamed when he saw her.

“Oh, good on you, Little Brown! I was worried I’d lost it.” Along with the clipper, he took the wrinkled papers from her hand, “And a new report! I’ll look over it in a moment.”

Mordecai watched the two of them with equal parts of irritation and confusion. She pointed at the liquor cabinet with big eyes.

“Tángshuǐ?”

What the hell was ‘hung shway?’

“Okay, but just a little bit. You’ve earned it.” Asa took a beautiful bottle from the top of the shelf and began pouring out clear liquid into a shot glass.

Oh, HELL NO. With all of the speed his fraternal instincts had given him, Mordecai snatched the glass from Asa.

“Mr. Sweet, I may not know the circumstances of your family dynamic, but it goes against my morals to idly stand by and let you get your daughter intoxicated. A child this size would have their liver completely eradicated by any percentage of alcohol. And rewarding it to her for completing a school report?”

There was a pause. Mordecai’s heavy breathing filled the silence.

A beat later, Asa was laughing so hard that he had to sit back down. He sputtered out some nonsensical noises until he could wheeze out, “She’s —heheheh— not my kid, Mr. Heller! An-and what you’re holding away from her is nothing more than-than-HAH!— a shot of simple syrup!”

Mordecai brought the drink to his nose and gave it a sniff. He wrinkled his nose at the sickly-sweet scent, “Ah. I suppose it is.”

He looked down at the girl; she was staring blankly and letting out a lengthy sigh. He slowly handed her the shot and watched her drink tiny little sips from the glass. She moved away from the two of them and sat on the office’s couch.

“Who is she, then?” He asked. She opened her mouth to answer him, but Asa cut her off.

“Her name is Jenny Brown. She’s been living at the hotel for a while now. Don’t bother starting a conversation; she barely speaks English.” He shrugged and started reading the report, “You’ll see her and her fowl her every now and then, but not enough to really mind them.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Mordecai looked at Jenny. She had finished her syrup and was know reading from a large book that had been pulled from her bag. Her stoic expression didn’t change, but her ears were turned downward.

“Hhm,” Asa made a noise of discontent at whatever was written on the report. He looked at Mordecai, “You had agreed to complete a small trial assignment, Mr. Heller.”

“Yes?” Mordecai cocked a large eyebrow.

“Well, it’s starting now. It seems we’re having a bit of a rat problem. Ms. Brown,” Jenny looked up from her book, “Mr. Heller here is going to take care of this report. Would you take him to the appropriate room?”

“Yessir, Mr. Sweet.”

Mordecai took that as his cue to follow her. She was already holding the elevator door for him with the rooster perched on her shoulder, “Sixth floor, okay?”

“The sixth floor…” he mumbled to himself and stepped in. “If I’m dealing with rats, plural, it’s implied that I’ll be taking out at least two people who probably work for Marigold. But by my estimation, that floor is high enough to be considered rooms for high profile guests. It could also be that some patrons got ahold of some sensitive information-”

“Oh, my GOD,” Jenny exclaimed. Mordecai whipped his head over to her. Her pursed smile had fallen into her natural, thousand-yard stare. She pointed her cane at him, “This isn’t some field mission, it’s two guys that Mr. Sweet wants you to kill.”

“I thought you ‘barely spoke English!’” Mordecai sputtered out.

“Yeah, as in I don’t talk in English often. Okay, so these men talk in Spanish. Once they open the door, just push past me and get ‘em! Oh, we’re here.”

Once the two of them stepped into the hall, Jenny grabbed a pillow from an abandoned housecleaning cart and handed it to him. She set her bird on the same cart, telling it to stay.

“What’s this for?”

“I dunno. Whenever I see someone going into a room with a gun here, they bring a pillow with them.

He stated at her incredulously. She had admitted to witnessing the moments before killers struck. Multiple times. He wasn’t sure how to respond to her blasé attitude. Before he could, though, Jenny began banging on the door.

“Abre la puerta! Por favor!” She whisper-yelled and was making fake little sobbing noises, “Hay un hombre con un arma!”

The moment the door opened, Mordecai took advantage of it. He stepped in and shut it behind him. There stood two confused men yelling at him in Spanish. The element of surprise allowed him to slam his gun against a vulnerable spot on the first one’s head with enough force to end his life. The other was bigger, but obviously drunk and easy to trip. Once he had fallen, Mordecai took the pillow, shoved it in his face, and shot him in the head through it.

Mordecai had barely broken a sweat. He whipped his head around at the knock on the door. He instinctively pointed his gun at it, but he only heard the little girl.

“Mr. Heller, is everything alright?”

He lowered his gun, “Yes, and the targets have been dealt with.”

“Perfect!”

Before Mordecai could stop her, she slipped into the room and stared at the scene.

“Ms. Brown, I insist you leave! This is no place for a child.”

“Well how else am I supposed to evaluate your work?” Jenny asked with a confused look. She brought out a little book and began jotting down notes.

“‘Evaluate my work’!?” He was a professional, damn it!

“Yes, but don’t worry— from what I see, you’ll definitely get the job. Okay, the notes are finished. Just one moment, Mr. Heller, and we’ll leave.”

She set her cane on top of a bed and braced against the edge to make her way to the bodies. She retrieved a pair of dental pliers from her (possibly bottomless) bag, forced open the first victim’s mouth, and yanked out his incisors. She did the same with the shot man, revealing the bullet wound for them to see. She payed no heed to the gory mess surrounding her.

“It’s rude to stare,” She didn’t look up from wiping the blood off the teeth, “but I would, too. Maybe.”

An involuntary shiver went up Mordecai’s spine when she brushed past him. “Anyway,” she turned to him, “have a nice night, Mr. Heller.”

——

It was now the day after Jenny dropped a towel on Mordecai. She chastised herself for staying up late, but she was not going to fumble her rigorous morning schedule. She wakes up at 7:00, makes her bed, and puts on the outfit she laid out the night before.
At 7:30, she goes up to the hotel’s roof to let out Henry, her rooster. She cleans out his coop, refills his water, and takes him downstairs for breakfast.
The kitchen staff doesn’t blink when they see the rooster pecking at a corn cob and Jenny eating some boiled eggs. After their meal, Jenny would get fortune right afterwards, but she felt that her colleagues-by-association needed some extra time.

***
Serafine sat on the sofa with her legs perched on the table. She had another job tonight with her brother and the newbie, so she wanted to get as much rest in as possible.
Then again, she still had to keep on her toes if Jenny decided to come bother her or Nicodeme.
It was almost 11:00, which was the prime time for the ti ékolar to visit.
Right on time, there came a rapid thumping on the door. Nicodeme groaned from the large chair he had fallen asleep in. It didn’t help that the both of them had the congregation over the night before, too. They were bone-tired, but they knew that the small girl wouldn’t relent until she came in.

“Antre,” Serafine called from her spot, “The door is open, amie.”

The door opened just enough for her chicken to come in, instead. Nicodeme opened one eye to see the bird run through all the forgotten chalk dust. After a minute of just clucking as it moved, it let out an ear-piercing crow that jolted both siblings awake.

Jenny came in and carefully made her way next to Serafine.

“Good morning,” she cordially said.

Serafine chuckled and lazily ruffled the girl’s curls. She patted an empty spot on the couch, “Come up and sit with us, chil’. You know we ain’t gon’ bite.”

Jenny took off her socks and shoes and carefully got up on the overly plush couch. She passed Serafine her cane, who promptly threw it on top of her brother, hitting his nose.

“Gah!” he awkwardly swatted it off of him.

“Don’t break it, you dumb gwo pwa!” Jenny exclaimed.

Serafine cackled at her phrasing, “Girl, who taught you dat?”

“‘Understanding Creole Dialects’; I got it from the library.”

Nico got up and stretched. He reached over to muss her hair and give her cane back, “Maybe we should speak less around you? It’d keep ya down from learnin’ our secrets, ha!”

“Nico, if you spoke less, everyone else would get smarter. Cherie, you need help with your fortune?”

“No thank you,” Jenny fixed her hair and watched her bird finally settle in a patch of sun. “It looks like Henry had it covered this time. He’s finished walking through your chalk already.”

Serafine chuffed out a laugh and stood up on the couch. She looked down at the mess the rooster had made, “An’ what’s his supposed magic tracks sayin’? I see a snake. Maybe some betrayal is coming in your direction.”

Plagued by curiosity, Nico also stood on his chair. He tilted his head at the imprints, “All I see is chicken feet.”

“It’s not curved enough to be a snake. I think it’s an uppercase ‘m’. And from the way I heard him running, it’s something to be frantic about.”

“I can see that,” Serafine looked around. The insistent flapping had caused excess chalk dust to fly up and settle on shelves and other various surfaces. That was a problem for Future Her, though. She shifted herself to look from Jenny’s angle.

Nicodeme snapped his fingers and pointed at Jenny, “He’s talkin’ bout’ Mordecai! He’s a new guy and I heard dat he’s a real piece of work. Petit Henry is warning you!”

“I met Mr. Heller last night. He’s nothing to worry about, just another killer.”

The brother-sister duo slumped back on the couch, forcing Jenny to be smushed between them. She would’ve usually disliked being in this position, but she was too in her head to notice the pressure (she also enjoyed the leftover scent of incense on them). The three of them just started naming off words that started with ‘m.’
After half an hour, they were starting to run out.

“Mermaid?” Serafine provided.

“Nuh-uh, I’m not going to be near an ocean or the rivers anytime soon— not even a nautical bar.”

“Motor? Motorbike, motorcar?” To name a few from Nico.

“Those can have frantic drivers, but no. It doesn’t feel right.”

“Are we sure it ain’t a ‘w’?”

“For the last time, that’s impossible! Henry’s claws made more serifs.”

“Dat sounds too fancy for an ol’ rooster,” Nico noted. He received a raised eyebrow from Serafine and an offended glare from Jenny.

“I’m just saying!” Nico raised his hands in defense and changed the subject, “Oh, did any of you get any letters from Nellie? Dat’d be good for morale, mine at least.”

“Ew!” Jenny mimed gagging with a look of disgust.

“Nico, jus’ no,” Serafine pinched the bridge of her nose, pretending to be exasperated (her abdomen tensed with held-in laughter). Her ears then pricked up at the sound of polite knocking against the door.

Jenny looked between the two adults, expecting one or the other to let them in. About ten seconds later, the knocking came again. Jenny sighed and got off the couch. Did she have to do everything?

She briefly flinched at the sensation of the cold floor against the pads of her feet, but marched over to the entrance. It was hard to walk straight without her cane, but this was good practice. She opened the door just enough to peek her head out, and looked up to see a nervous bell boy. The employee was holding a large box covered with stamps.

“He must be new,” Jenny thought to herself, then spoke up in her best I’m-a-well-adjusted-girl voice, “Yes, sir?”

She faked a smile to calm his nerves, which seemed to work, “Package for Jenny Brown?”

“That’s me, sir. I’ll sign for it,” she took the clipboard of papers, “but why wasn’t it delivered to my room?”

“Management told me there was a chance you’d be here around now,” he awkwardly chuckled.

Jenny rolled her eyes and sighed with a nod. She embraced being a creature of habit, but she didn’t appreciate being treated like a tracked animal!

Jenny handed back the paperwork, allowing the man to set down the package with an ‘oof’. She had to know, “Was it the night manager?”

“I, uh, I dunno. It was more of a tip through the grapevine.”

“Grapevine? We have grapes growing here?” Jenny genuinely asked with a tilt of her head.

“What, no, it’s like, uh,” the bell boy searched for an explanation, “Well, I heard it from someone who heard it from someone who heard it from someone else.”

“Oh, an idiom,” Jenny’s ears and tail flicked.

“I guess? Uh, have a nice day!”

The new employee ran off, metaphorically, like a bat out of hell. Jenny could handle metaphors, but stars above, she hated idioms. Why couldn’t just people say what they mean?

She tried picking up the hefty package too fast and fell over from the resistance. She blew hair out of her face and called out for the Savoys’ assistance, “Bebé down!”

“I just got comfortable!” Nico called back. A loud smack was heard a moment later. From the sound of it, Serafine had used Jenny’s cane.

The two white cats eventually did come out to help. Serafine got Jenny to her feet and carried her back to the couch. Nico picked up the box and placed it on the table with ease. Jenny was still a bit dizzy, but after staring at it longer, she finally got the ‘m’ word.

“Oh, my— it’s a package from Nellie,” Jenny slapped her face, “that shipped first class! Frantic mail!”

“And I manifested it!” Nico said proudly.

“No, brother mine, the rooster did.” Serafine picked up Henry and handed him to Jenny. The little girl snuggled her face into his feathers. What a smart boy, oh, yes he is!

“Ya’ wan’ me to open it?” Serafine asked.

“Mm, okay,” her voice came out muffled against the bird.

In one precise cut, she opened it with her knife. The box was stuffed to the brim with different gifts and letters. All of them, however, were addressed to Big Shot, Wise Head, Geetus, Heeled, and Flat Tire.

Jenny looked at the slang and immediately threw a letter for Flat Tire at Nicodeme. Serafine received everything that was for Heeled.

“‘Flat tire?’ What’s Nellie sayin’ ‘bou’ me?”

“She must not have liked the date you took her on before she left,” Jenny bluntly said, but decided to throw the shocked man a bone, “or it could be ironic. Just read what it says.”

“To y’self,” Serafine tacked on. “Is Geetus supposed to be our boss or your dad?”

“She’s most likely referring to my father. I wish she’d call him something else. Could you do me a favor and have the stuff for Big Shot sent to Mr. Sweet? You’re definitely Heeled and her nickname for me… hasn’t changed,” Jenny grimaced at Wise Head.

“‘Better than bein’ call’ House Peeper again. It made you soun’ like a pervert. I’ll make sure Big Shot get’s his stuff, don’ worry ya’ head.”

Jenny nodded in agreement and looked at the clock, seeing that it was 3:00 pm. She had stayed two and a half hours later than usual.
Jenny’s face dropped. How could she do this? She was supposed to leave at 12:30 to have lunch in the kitchens and now everything was all wrong. She was supposed to have made a trip to the library today, but the shift change happened an hour ago. None of the librarians at this shift ever knew where anything is! Oh, she could just cry.

And she did. It didn’t help, considering her designated crying time was set before she went to sleep. Why couldn’t she have a good brain like anyone else’s? It was like her’s was filled with perpetual chaos once a single thing goes wrong.

Then the cocoon came, leaving Jenny’s mind went blank at the sensation. Comforting pressure surrounded her, letting her muscles relax. She no longer felt the need to hit her head or scratch at her arms. She had left her body in a spiral, but the familiar feel of being wrapped was keeping her grounded.
Then, sleep came.

***

Serafine and Nicodeme slowly backed away from Jenny like she was a ticking time bomb. The two had covered the child with layers of their blankets. Pillows of all sizes were stacked around her to brace her from tipping off the couch.
They knew Jenny had… fits (for lack of a better word), and they had only ever witnessed one being stopped once. Back then, she was wrapped in a too-large, heavy, winter coat by her father. Thankfully, their last party had left a mess, which meant that plenty of sizable throw blankets were around. The two kept layering her until she stopped moving by herself. The poor girl had tired herself out and fallen asleep in the mound.

Nicodeme whispered, “I won’ lie— dat looks real’ cozy.”

Serafine payed no mind to the comment. She looked toward the phone, instead. “We need to call Asa,” she whispered.

***

“I refuse to work with them again.”

“Mr. Helller, we all have to make sacrifices for our jobs. They may not be up to par to you, but they get the task done. I am not discussing this with you—“

The ring of the desk’s telephone interrupted him. Mr. Sweet calmed himself down and pressed the phone to his ear.

“Yes?” He neutrally answered. Mordecai was upset about Mr. Sweet’s indifference, but his ire was soon replaced with confusion. Asa’s expression grew more and more horrified by the second.

He began to yell into the speaker “Well what caused it? Did her peas touch her carrots? Did that wannabe in-law find her? Than what happened? God forbid anything happened to her stupid chicken.”

Asa paused to listen to the other end. His face morphed into panicked shock.

“No, no, no! If you even leave a message for Mr. Brown, I will dock. Your. Pay. Just put her back in her room. You can get your damn blankets back later.” Just before Asa hung up, the person on the line managed to grab his attention once more.
His face and voice became stony when he finally answered back, “A package? I didn’t order anything— ah, okay. Is it coming up now? Alright, then. Good luck on tonight.”

He gently put the phone back on the receiver and looked back at Mordecai, who had his large eyebrows cocked in a questioning stare.

“So, you don’t like the Savoys.” Asa spoke.

“No, I do not.” Mordecai was getting tired of repeating himself.

“They may be crass, noisy, like to play with their prey, so to speak, but their pros outweigh their cons. And you don’t have to like them, but you will deal with it, Heller,” he hissed. As he rubbed his forehead from an oncoming headache, he ruefully smiled at Mordecai.

“What do you think of Jenny?”

“The child? I don’t know,” Mordecai answered back. It was the truth— he somehow had too little and too much information about Jenny. It was making it difficult to compartmentalize her.

“That’s a fair answer” Asa responded, “it’s how I felt. Oh, I was just so impressed at all the information she’d gotten for me! But with every pro…?”

“Comes the cons,” Mordecai answered, “so what is she capable of that ‘balances them out?’”

“For such a little thing, she sure is brave! She’d have to be, to work such a dangerous job. All she requested was a discount on her room and use of the roof for a pen— you’ve seen the chicken. Her con is…”

He trailed off when a knock came from the office door. Asa opened it, took a package from the bellhop, and shut it back firmly (Mordecai didn’t miss the sound of the lock sliding shut).
Mr. Sweet spoke as he unwrapped the package.

“Sure, Jenny is a little sassy and is a picky eater, but what kid isn’t?”

The twine is undone. The brown paper is ripped away to reveal a large, red coat box. Asa tossed it away onto a nearby chaise lounge with revulsion.

“She could be spending her childhood anywhere else, but her father set her up here to spy on people. Jenny’s con is having a bunch of lunatics for a family. Who sends a little kid to spy on strangers? Who’s made her so okay with seeing blood?” he looked at the red box, “They’ve ruined that little girl.”

Mordecai stayed silent. His mind immediately went to the memory of the child ripping corpses’ teeth out. From a young age, he’d seen plenty of violence and filth, but he always had some sort of recation afterwards (not sympathy or empathy, but at least visible revulsion).

But Asa’s hypocritical choice of exploiting child labor was noted.

Mr. Sweet brought out a bottle of vodka from his cabinet and looked at Mordecai, “If I can handle those loons, you can handle the Savoys. Thanks for listening to my troubles, Mr. Heller, but you should go now. Tonight’s job starts in a few hours.”

The bespectacled cat slowly got up, undid the lock, and left. If his boss was planning on getting piss drunk, he’d rather not risk being around the angered man. If anything, he got a few more pieces to the puzzle that was Jenny Brown.

Chapter Text

The mission was successful. There were a few dicey moments, but at least he wasn’t covered in blood this time around. It was a different story for Serafine, though. Through a series of events not unlike a Rube Goldberg creation, her hair was soaked with blood. She complained to Nicodeme about it enough for him to pull over by the Mississippi.
Much to Mordecai’s distaste, she rolled up their pant legs and took off her shoes to wash her hair at the river bank. Nicodeme followed after her. From his own experiences of washing out blood in this fur, Mordecai knew they would be there for a while.

“You do know that it will wash out easier in a shower, right? The hotel is only twenty minutes away,” Mordecai spoke up. He stood on the dirt road a few feet away from the bank, “and you’re only succeeding in washing out your pomade in favor of any mud. Ugh, not to mention you’re clothes. That water temperature might make stains set, you know!”

Finished, he turned on his heel and back to the car.

Nicodeme poured November-chilled water onto the back of Serafine’s bent skull and laughed loudly, “AH HAHA! Sera, who’ he soundin’ like?

She paused finger combing her locks and looked up at her brother, “Boy, he souns’ just like a grown-up Jenny!”

Mordecai stopped walking at the mention of the name. He came back to the edge of the road, “You wouldn’t happen to being talking about Jenny Brown, would you?”

Serafine flipped her curls out of her face and began ringing them out. She spoke with a confused lilt in her voice, “Yeah, we know her— don’ you?”

“She came by our place today to hang out for a lil’ bit. She tol’ us she met you,” Nicodeme tacked on.

“Only enough give me my evaluation,” Mordecai growled. “Hm, what grade did you two get? I want to know where the bar is.”

The two looked at each other, back to Mordecai, and began cackling. As their hyena impressions died down, they finally explained that he’d been hazed.

“What? What does that mean?”

“You’ve been tricked, ami! Der’s no stupid grade! The bebe does it for the shock value. Jenny probably has the mos’ complicated sense of humor in the city,” Seraphine answered, rolling her eyes. She got into

the car, followed by the two men.

“She took some teeth!” He said, moving into the back’s middle seat. “Again, shock value,” Serafine buckled herself in.
“She isn’t afraid of dead bodies!” Nicodeme shrugged and started the car.
“I can only imagine what her mother and father are like,” he huffed.

“Non!” Serafine chuckled, “Mr. Brown is as mellow as they come! We don’ know much about der’ mama other than she’s livin’ all the way in Mexico.”

Mordecai stewed in frustration, but at least he had a name. After a few minutes, he realized she said ‘their’ mama.
He frowned, “Are you two lying? Though not verbatim, Mr. Sweet told me that the Browns are lunatics.”

—————————————————————————————————
Meanwhile, Asa sat in his chair, nursing a half-empty bottle of vodka. He looked to the coat box and finally lumbered towards it.

—————————————————————————————————

The siblings gave him shocked faces through the rearview mirror. Mordecai kept his face and voice as neutral as possible, “It’s simply a matter of nature versus nurture. Mr. Sweet told me that Jenny is ‘ruined’ because of them.”

Nico stopped the car, jolting all three of them forward. They spun around and looked the tuxedo cat in the eye. Serafine was especially intimidating— her wet, unkempt curls and bared fangs made her look like a wild animal. She snapped at him, “You keep any of their names out of your mouth!”

“So there’s a dubious father and an absent mother. Who was Mr. Sweet so nervous about?” Mordecai mused aloud.

—————————————————————————————————
Asa opened the box, admiring the tissue paper. He knew it was a coat wrapped in it, but it was thoughtful of Jenny’s older sister to bother adding a little flair.
There was a note on top from her.

‘You know I love sending my friends presents on my way back. On my stop at one of the Native tribes, I met another gentleman who was also passing through. He had the most stylish coat! It reminded me of you, so I made sure to craft one!’
—————————————————————————————————

“This discussion is over,” Nico growled deep in his throat. The drive was painfully silent.

—————————————————————————————————
Asa tossed the tissue paper aside and lifted up the gift. The was a fur coat few shades darker than this own fur, just barely reaching brown. It fit well, this time. For the past two years, she only managed to make ones that were too small. He read the rest of the note.

Please wear it this time? And all these years, you’d think I’d at least get a thank you for my gifts. Do you know how difficult it was to peel off his coat and tan the hide? Don’t worry, he deserved it. All the best, Nellie.

“Oh… yeah,” Asa mumbled. He took off the coat, doused it in the rest of the vodka, and threw it into the fireplace. He settled into the accompanying arm chair and watched it burn.

A few hours later, Asa was jolted awake by the sensation of his arm being shook. He spun to the culprit to see none other than Jenny in her night dress and slippers. She looked at him, but broke the eye contact

in favor of staring at the fire.

“It’s late, Jenny. How did you get in here?” Asa’s voice was thick with sleep and drunkenness.

She ignored the question and scrunched her nose. “It smells like burnt hair in here.”

“I burnt your sister’s present,” he slurred.

“Oh,” she sounded confused, “Was it too small again?”

He scoffed and dug through his pockets. The note was still there— good. He had his chance and he was going to take it. He would show her the proof of her sister’s sins.

“What’s that?” she pointed at the letter clenched in his fist. She moved to touch it, but he lifted it just out of her reach. Without thinking, it was thrown into the flames.

“Nothing! It was… nothing.” He gave a large sigh, “The fire needed more kindling, anyway. And, yeah, the coat didn’t fit me. Please go back to sleep?”

She started to walk away, but asked again, “Was it really just too small?”

He didn’t answer. He only uncorked another random bottle and took a swig.

⸺
Jenny made her way back to her room slowly, but carefully using her cane and the support of the wall. Her large ears flicked about like they had minds of their own. She heard people snoring or talking in their sleep, conversations between couples, and even a few loud folks who had just made their way up from the speakeasy, no doubt.
She was wanted to talk to Sera and Nico, but they were at work. She just had to have patience and remind herself that Sera and Nico would be out killing or threatening people, but they would be back tonight.
Hopefully the Savoys wouldn’t let themselves be held back by Mr. Heller, who didn’t seem to handle shock very well.
That new guy with them didn’t exactly rub her the wrong way, but he certainly gave her the jeebies. There was just something so uncanny about him that reminded her of someone, she just didn’t know who. That was neither here nor there, though.
What was really keeping her up was Asa’s behavior.
Nellie was the type of person you either love or want to die a painful death. Jenny may be a kid, but she isn’t stupid. Asa didn’t need to tiptoe around how much he hated her family, especially her stepsister.

For God’s sake, he was drinking while burning the coat from her. Either way, she didn’t have the emotional energy to deal with her boss’s issues, of all people.

Jenny lied back in her bed and looked over at Nellie’s empty side of the room. She couldn’t wait to see her again.

—————————————————————————————————

Imagine having people who had welcomed you into their life, who you mutually respected and trusted! Now, imagine a new coworker you barely knew who decided to slander them to your face.

For every person who hated the Brown family, there were others who loved them in one way or another. The Savoys were a part of this demographic. Serafine and Nico saw Jenny as a little one they could trust, maybe even as sister. For Nicodeme, he had fallen head over heels for Nellie the moment they met. The girls’ father, Balendin, had been good to them, as well.

Now imagine you are the aforementioned slanderous coworker.

Mordecai Heller made the mistake of not keeping any comments or questions to himself. He had been dragged out of the car, been kicked

in the gut a few times, and then thrown back in. Serafine cut off any the back’s seatbelt straps, forcing him have to hold onto the seats of the car to survive Nicodeme’s reckless driving. Neither talked to him for the rest of the ride, but they bore looks of schadenfreude.

Mordecai inside the hotel. Once he was at his guest room, he could wrap up his rips and sleep off his slightly bruised ego. He winced while unlocking his room— it was difficult to unlock the door and put pressure on his torso at the same time.

“Ugh, baren!”

“Geez-Louise, what happened to you?”

Much to his chagrin, it was Jenny was standing right behind him. Her exclamation was full of surprise, but her usual poker face was still in place. For some reason, she was dressed in her morning clothes.

“I ran into a wall,” he sarcastically answered.

Really? No that was sarcasm. She responded, “What, and lost a fight to it? You look awful! You aren’t heading to temple like that, are you?”

“I… excuse me?”

“I just thought you might be Jewish. Your name is Hebrew and you just cursed in Yiddish. It’s Saturday and the nearest synagogue is a bit of a drive.”

“It’s the middle of the night.”

“No, it’s past seven-o’clock in the morning. Did you just get back? Go and shower— you only have so much time before their morning service starts!”

A beat of silence before he responded, “I’m tired. I was planning to go to the Havdalah ceremony.” It’d been years since he regularly went to temple, but this runt didn’t need to know that.

Jenny leaned on her cane just a little more. After a moment of her big eyes scanning him she spoke again.

“Oh, well… go and get some sleep.”

⸻⸻⸻
He’s thirteen years old again, reading from the Torah at his bar mitzvah. He had learned just enough Hebrew to read it.
When he finishes, the Rabbi and his assistants roll it up and place it back in the case. The crowd is faceless accept for his family.
He looks down at the front pew, at his mother and two sisters. Esther is doing her best to pay attention, Rose is distracted by a thread in her dress, and Hannah is lightly bounced in Tzipporah’s lap.
All three of them are smiling at him, and he gives them a little smile back.
⸻⸻⸻

Mordecai wakes up, confused and nostalgic. His mouth twitches up, but only a little bit.

Chapter Text

The Marigold Room was at its busiest on Saturday nights. Mordecai flinched at all the different noises in the speakeasy, desperately wanting to leave. Alas, Asa had him play bodyguard while he played poker. It felt classist, but then again, it was a part of his contract.

His eyes gazed periodically around the room, checking his surroundings out of habit. University boys pretending to be adults
by drinking whiskey and trying not to flinch. Flappers traveling in small groups with cocktails in their hands. Rich, old men at the bar with possible escorts.

And of course, the dancing. The big band music played loudly and everyone was in full swing in the opulent room. It all looked like nonsense to Mordecai, but he had a modicum of respect for the more seasoned, in-sync duos.

To his horror, a honey-furred redhead in a flowing dress makes eye contact with him. Even worse, she took it as an invitation to come over him. “Excuse me, would you like to dance?”

Mordecai bristled at Asa and the other chuckling business men. “No, I’m in the middle of work.”

“No offense, but it looks like you’re just standing there. I was here last week, and you were standing still right in this spot for the entire night!”

“I believe in consistency.”

There was no Mitzi May around anymore to trick girls into waiting for him. There is no Ivy Pepper bringing him possible dance partners. There was no Roark Rickaby to playfully scold him for being so cold to the women.

“Sorry, sweetheart, but he’s not much of a dancer,” one of the men speaks up.

“He always turns down offers, no matter how pretty the girls are,” another winked at the nameless redhead.

However, there was a meddling Asa Sweet sitting in front of him.

Asa spoke up, “Mordecai, I think there’s a slow dance coming up.”

Mordecai bristled, “I. Don’t. Dance.”

All the same, Redhead looked up at him through her lashes with a hopeful smile. The slow dance was beginning to play. Hopefully, he could argue that it was for established couples, but Asa beat him to it, “Any man can at least sway. Be a gentleman and dance with the poor girl.”

And with that, she dragged him away from his guffawing boss and into the middle of the crowd. Mordecai had no idea what to do next. He felt humiliated by the stares of the party goers. He heard some girls make passing comments about how he was finally letting loose, and it seemed the redhead didn’t agree.

“You’re so stiff! I’ll move your hands. Here, hold my waist like this —very good— and I’ll put my hands on your shoulders. Perfect!”

The song was the type to drag on, so Mordecai braced himself to disassociate. His eye twitched when she spoke, “You’re lucky I chose a slow dance. Your creaky swaying actually looks natural.”

Silence from him.

“Oh, don’t sorry I’m not going to force you into talking or eye contact. In fact, it quite works in my favor!”

Before he could reach for his gun, he felt something long, thin, and metal at the back of his neck. She rested her chin on his shoulder and whispered, “I wouldn’t move your hands if I were you, handsome.”

“Just who do you think you are?” He hissed at her. He began to move his hands, but stopped at the cold metal of the knife. How hadn’t he sensed it coming?

“Ah, ah, ah,” she spoke softly. The edge of her blade was pressed dangerously close to his jugular. A single swipe would leave him bleeding out. She continued, “Keep your hands where they are. I’m here, threatening to kill you, because my boss told me to. It’s not personal. Well, it is for my boss, haha!

Listen to me or I’ll make sure that every lousy person here are going to die aaaaaaall in one swoop! Understand?”

“You and what army?”

“No military, no gangs, no silly gang’s competition. Haven’t you noticed people staring at us?”

Mordecai whipped his head around. There were small gaps in the crowd, allowing him to see some select women and men staring at them, their eyes glazed over. It was if they were mannequins, dressed up and posed to blend in with the people. How many more of them were here? He felt the hair stand up on the back of his neck, and tail was beginning to puff out from stress.

“Those weren’t all jealous stares you were feeling, Mr. Heller,” her voice dipped her threats in sugar, “Your fate mistakenly placed you in our boss’ orbit, and now the Court of Diamonds will always have eyes on you.”

She cupped the side of his face and turned it towards her, “If anything happens to that little girl upstairs on your watch, you will die. Anyway, you won’t ever see me again, but I’ll be seeing you.”

He felt a pinch on his face when she pushed her off of him into the crowd, causing a domino effect of flailing bodies and breaking glasses. Dumbfounded, Mordecai managed to squirm his way out of the pile of dancers and drunks. He snapped his head towards the entrance of the Marigold Room.

Nameless Redhead and her multiple comrades had woven their way past the chaos and into the night. He suddenly felt something wet on his snout. When he pulled his hand back, blood stained his paws. The woman had roughly plucked whiskers from his face.

“Heller! What happened here?” Asa’s voice was muffled behind him. He was now consoling true guests and offering them a free round of drinks.

Mordecai knew that hunting down Atlas’ killer would be dangerous, but it felt like he had met a harbinger of a more chaotic future.

—————————

Across town, Mitzi May looks at the meager spattering of people turning in for the night and trickling out of the speakeasy. Despite her grieving period, she kept a stiff upper lip and had played hostess for the guests. Now that it was safe to drop her smile, she sat at the bar in company of the band in the “artists’ lounge.”

“Pretty good amount tonight, all things considered,” Zib remarked.

Mitzi nodded absentmindedly nodded, “I suppose, but they left earlier than usual. We’re running out of the good stuff. It’ll take a miracle to have more guests tonight—“

Suddenly, Rocky ran in, frantic, “Everyone, we better get back in stage!”

“What? We just got comfortable!” Ben said.

“Well, tell that to the crowd out there! There has to be at least fifty!”

Mitzi shot up and rushed out, taken back by the sudden crowd. Where did they get that alcohol in the hands!?

Brandy, champagne, you name it! She looked at the crowded bar, everyone getting tipsy and laughing at the bartender… meaning that it definitely wasn’t Victor behind that bar. As she made her way through the crowd, the voice of the surprise bartender got closer.

“Hey, nice to see you!”
“Tequila anyone? Straight from Mexico, very rare brand!”
“Tu hablas español? Te ves genial!”
“What a handsome couple! Say, what brand is that headdress?”

It wasn’t Victor at the bar, but a young woman. Light brown fur, stripes and freckles, short hair that was unevenly cut with one, little braid, all wrapped in a pink and champagne dress. She was making cocktails, evenly pouring bourbon, and even upselling people at record speeds!

Mitzi’s jaw dropped— it was Nellie!

She had completely forgotten that Atlas had put in an order with the nomadic rum runner! She clutched onto her necklace, giving a silent thank you towards her late husband. She primped her hair and fur, and went behind the bar to the taller woman.

“Neleva Kickapoo Brown, as I live and breathe!” Mitzi said as if she wasn’t panicking before, “I didn’t know you were coming tonight! Here, give me one of those bottles to pour.”

Nellie handed her a bottle of Canadian whiskey to pour out for customers while she talked, “It’s good to see you, Mrs. May!”

“Miss,” she corrected absentmindedly but steered the conversation back to the alcohol, “You wouldn’t happen to be a reason for the crowd, would you?”

“I may or may not have paid a few newsies to spread the word about some fancy, foreign spirits,” she said as she handed her an empty bottle of tequila to a (possibly) foreign guest, all words in Spanish.

“Oh, honey, this is fantastic!”

“Isn’t it? It’s about as strong as a good bourbon, too,” she leaned down to Mitzi’s ear and murmured, “even when it’s watered down with the worm still inside!”

Mitzi gave a laugh at the deceit, but pursed her lips, “Wait, a worm?”

“Yeah, see?” She took the bottle from Mitzi and pointed at the glass. Inside was a little worm, and Mitzi’s tail puffed up from disgust. Nellie laughed at her expression and spoke again, “Don’t worry about it, it’s normal for one to be there. And if you can sell ‘chert-flavored’ gunk dripping off the limestone, I can sell a worm.”

She looked around and smirked at a man failing at flirting with some flappers. Mitzi couldn’t make out what she was saying, but he whipped out a fat stack of cash and walked away with the bottle-of-worm.

“What did you tell him?”

“I told him that eating it is a Mexican home remedy for increasing stamina,” Nellie said with a straight face, handing the southern belle the bills.

Mitzi coughed from surprise and playfully hit Nellie’s shoulder. The young lady was always a harbinger of good business.

—————————

It was two in the morning now. With all the guests gone, Nellie sat with everyone at the bar, telling them about her trip across the country.

“Once I got the goods past the border and into Texas, things felt like smooth sailing! But what do I find? All the roads back to the east coast were blocked for some reason or another, so I ended up all over! Rocky, I could’ve given you a run for your money!”

“Where’d you end up, then?” asked Ben.

“Well, when I first left I made time to drive up to Illinois and follow the trail downward through other Kickapoo tribes. Mine was last and nearest to the border, so it was a nice little treat before haggling for booze in Mexico. On my way back, I kept having to go east to dodge all sorts of cops! It was SO stupid. I had to write my sister that I would be two weeks late.”

“Oh, Balendin’s kid! So, how is she?” Mozzie piped up. The last time anyone had seen her, it was only briefly in October at the wake for Atlas’ funeral.

“Fine, as far as I know. She’s turning ten next month on Christmas Eve— hold on I have a picture,” Nellie dug through her tasseled purse and pulled a photo from it. She handed the image to the bigger cat, who took it gently.

Mitzi leaned to take a look at the photo and sagged at the sight of the little girl in it. She was sitting in a diner seat in the Little Daisy, holding a dictionary.
Mitzi was the one who had taken that photo, actually, during the wake. To take a break from being given condolences, she had gone down to the cafe. Jenny was already sitting there, looking comedically out of place in an orange dress during such a somber affair.

“Say, where is the boss man, anyway? Atlas usually comes to check on the inventory before I make my other stops.”

“He’s… honey, you don’t know?” the southern belle asked. Surely someone in their line of work had broken the news to the young woman.

“Know what?” Nellie spun around at the somber group, and repeated herself, “Mitzi, know what?”

The silence was deafening.

—————————

Mitzi had pulled Nellie aside to tell her the news. The taller girl didn’t say anything. Instead, she left the rest of the alcohol to Lackadaisy except for one crate’s worth.

“It’s fine, May. I’ll just divvy up this one and tell the other customers that I got robbed on the way back. No harm, no foul. Plus, I should hang up my bootlegging cap; I’ve heard news of a war starting in Mexico, anyway.“

“How are you going to afford Jenny’s room at the Maribel?” Mitzi asked. Nellie winced.

“That Asa is only letting you stay there for the foreign stuff!”

“Well, it’s about time I get humbled, don’t you think? I’ll finally ask Balendin for money or a job referral. And it’s Jenny I’m more worried about.”

“Balendin has a whole _mansion_, sweetie! You should—“

“I don’t want Jenny staying with her dad more than she needs to. He’s forgetting things more and refuses to see any doctors.“

Well, a failing memory explained the orange dress. Balendin must have forgotten that it was a wake. Now that Nellie was back, she would hopefully not let her sister go out in public without appropriate attire.
She looked over at the alcohol and thought about how hard the woman scrapped and tricked for the safety of this booze. Right before the young woman drove off in her beat-up truck, Mitzi spoke up, “Do you know what you can do for work? Legitimate work?”

Nellie looked in the back seat where her bow and arrow was; next to it, a rifle.

“Actually… yeah!”

Chapter Text

Once again, Mordecai had stayed the night at the hotel. He didn’t want to risk going into the night and cornered by any of those glass-eyed people. When Sunday morning rolled around, he had discovered a book in the hallway.
He clicked his teeth at the sight. Whatever the subject it might be, all books deserved to be treated with respect. He bent down and looked at the cover:

“The Odyssey”

It was The Odyssey! How could anybody leave behind a copy of The Odyssey? He picked it up —he might as well take care for it— and a library card fell out. Listed on almost every line was a hastily scribbled name in all capital letters: JENNY BROWN.

———

Jenny sounded muffled through the door, “Who is it?”

“It’s Mordecai, Ms. Brown. I believe I found one of your books.”

She flung the door open so hard that it might’ve come off its hinges. She didn’t bother to look at him— she just snatched the book from his hands. Her fur was on end as she worriedly, frantically flipped through the pages for any dents or tears.

Once she was satisfied, she went back into her room just as fast. Mordecai stood there in indignation only for a few seconds before the door was opened again. The newly composed girl appeared with a binder thick with papers.

His face shifted into a perturbed look for a moment as he watched her awkwardly balance its weight while scanning through the pages. Mordecai would’ve left by now, but he was admittedly curious about what was happening (he had seen stranger from past coworkers). He raised an eyebrow when Jenny cleared her throat.

She read aloud from the text, “‘I apologize for not thanking you for your thoughtfulness. Thank you, insert name here,’ —that would be you, Mr. Heller— ‘for the kind gesture. Would you like to…’”

She squinted at the page and turned it toward him. She had to drape her arm over the huge thing to point out an unintelligible sentence. He adjusted his glasses and leaned down to read it. Unfortunately, everything was written by someone with terrible, very small handwriting.

“I believe it may say ‘Come in for tea.’ And, no, thank you. I was just returning it,” he rolled his eyes, “and a bedroom is hardly a place to have a drink.”

Her face immediately dropped to its natural poker face. The two of them peered at her chaotic room.
It was split down the middle with chalk, indicating what side belonged to her and to her mystery sister. There were no shelves, so Jenny’s side had stacks of books and little geodes scattered about. The wall had a large world map posted on it. Not only that, but her stupid rooster was menacingly sitting on the large bed.
For some reason, the other side of the chalk line that belonged to the sister lacked a bed entirely. It provided more room for the many sewing mannequins that all had fur stoals, scarves, and coats on them. Its wall had polaroid pictures from ceiling to floor with red yarn connecting them all in some way.

He found himself peering inside to get a look at the wall of connections, but Jenny cleared her throat and shut the door behind her. Her eyes were slightly squinted and flicked across his face while one of her ears fluttered with irritation.

“Hm. you’re right. I don’t even have another chair. Thank you for not acting on the hypothetical scenario of keeping my book.”

“You’re welcome.”

The two cats felt an oncoming awkward silence between the two of them. Fortunately, Jenny managed to stunt it. With a grunt of effort, she took the found book off of a stack. “This is actually a library book. I need to renew it today, but my small stature is a disadvantage to crowds. Would you like to accompany me?”

“No.” He turned on his heel and walked away.

She called out to him, “I’d like to state my case for your assistance: one, I am liable to be kidnapped and you would be guilty. Two, my lack of whiskers makes me trickily walk in a serpentine pattern and I’m still not fully used to the new height of my cane. I could fall. Three, you are free to use my library card.”

Mordecai looked over his shoulder at her. His own ears fluttered with irritation. “No.”

“Counter: I am not afraid to tell on you.”

Either way, she had a point: being a disabled child on her own would not bode well. Worse, it might also get him fired if Mr. Sweet knew he let her go alone. There was Redhead to worry about, too. He didn’t want to know what the ominous, fake guests were capable of if something happened to her.

—————————

The next thing he knew, he was outside and holding out his arm for Jenny to hold onto. “I could have been busy.”

“I doubt it.” Her cane tapped against the sidewalk pavement, “You didn’t use it as a counter against my debate.”

“That was entirely one-sided.”

“I will give you that. And it doesn’t help that I’m wiling to tell lies about you if I don’t get my way, is it?”

She was aware of herself. SHE WAS AWARE OF HERSELF. Embarrassingly, Mordecai let a low growl escape him. Jenny rolled her eyes at him and spoke, “No need to be immature. You’ve probably met many people who would be willing to use the same tactics.”

Mordecai immediately envisioned Mitzi again, “Yes, you’re right about that.”

She nodded, “I’m right about most things I talk about.”

Mordecai pursed his lips at this. He was briefly —painfully— reminded of how Esther fought with him. She was well read like her, too, if that book had anything to say about it. While he had her attention, though, he might be able to ask some questions.
Before he could, though, he felt a shiver go up his spine and his tail fluff up. He looked across the street to see several older newsies staring at him glassy-eyed. They were completely ignoring potential customers passing by. He would ask his questions later.

———

Entering the fantastically organized building of the library immediately calmed his nerves. He felt Jenny let go of his arm in favor of her cane. She shuffled carefully to the front desk.

A few moments later, she motioned him over. She must be having trouble with the staff.

“Are you finished, Ms. Brown?” He looked to the receptionist next, “Is there a problem with the renewal?”

“Not at all, sir,” the older woman spoke, “I’ve just finished writing my recommendation lists for the two of you.”

“Pardon?”

Jenny spoke next, “Ms. Nicole always knows what you might like to read. It’s handy.”

Nicole handed the slips of paper down to Jenny, who took them happily. Whilst covering her eyes, Jenny gave Mordecai his list, “I didn’t look; what’d you get?”

She sounded like a child talking to her friend about baseball cards. Mordecai scanned his own list with a raised eyebrow. Ms. Nicole spoke up, “You look like a young man with a no-nonsense attitude. My best guesses were philosophies and treatises.”

“What, just treatises? Mr. Heller, you are such a bore.”

“Ms. Brown!” Nicole hissed, but she was already walking away to the science sections. The woman sighed and turned to Mordecai, “I swear that girl only speaks her mind. I’m worried she won’t be able to connect with people when she’s all grown. Her father really should’ve sent her to a finishing school.”

Mordecai tilted his head just a degree to the side in confusion. What was so wrong about being straightforward? “I’m aware of how she speaks. As far as I know, you aren’t entitled to how she’s raised.”

Ms. Nicole gave out a little scoff, but she didn’t say anything more. The tuxedo cat pocketed his list and went to search for the slippery child. Fortunately, she hadn’t moved from the biology books. The pile beside her implied that she found everything she wanted. Much to his inconvenience, she was distracted and now already engrossed in a book she found.

“Jenny. Jenny.”

“Hmm?”

“Did you find what you wanted?”

“Oh,” Jenny looked up at the book and pushed it back to the shelf, “I think so? Yeah, let’s go.”

The little girl did her best to keep her balance while trying to pick up the texts with one hand. Mordecai huffed in frustration at her. Just as he was about to pick up a few of her books, a new voice piped up beside him, “Would you like some help?”
He turned to see a generic-looking tabby beside them. The tom had the type of plain look that would go completely unnoticed in a crowd. He was about to say no, but the tabby gasped loudly at the sight of Jenny.

“Ms. Brown, it been too long! How are you? How’s your family? Is your father well? How about your sister? Is she back in town?”

“Fine, fine, yes, yes, and none of your business, Nathan,” she answered with a vitriolic tone. The venom in her voice certainly surprised Mordecai, but it seemed to fly over Nathan’s head.

“Does she speak about me? Did you know that I just came back from France yesterday? Beautiful cities, but some of those frogs where kind of mean, though. Oh, I have something for you! I’ll be right back!”

Mordecai looked to Jenny, who was frantically putting the books in his arms. He spoke to her, “I’d usually object to being a pack mule, but I get it.”

They speed walked their way to the counter, but Nathan was one step ahead. He came around the corner while holding some boxes, successfully blocking their path in the aisle. The two would never admit it, but Jenny and Mordecai both jumped.

“There you are, kiddo! I figured you were on your way to the front desk. Listen, I made sure to save two boxes of pastries for you and your daddy, but the red-wrapped one is for that love o’ mine. Nothing but the best for my darling,” he pushed the presents into Jenny’s arms and lightly pinched her cheek, speaking in a barely discernible baby voice, “and for my fae-vo-ite in-waws of cwourse!”

Jenny jerked her head back and bit at Nathan’s fingers. Mordecai was disappointed that he pulled his hand back in time, but Nathan took it as a sign to move out of their way. The two cats finally made it to check-out with frowns on their faces. Ms. Nicole took one look at them and spoke to them, “Was Nathan bothering you two?”

Mordecai spoke up, “Yes. Who is he?”

“The elder Ms. Brown’s old beau,” She spoke while putting check-out cards in the books.

——————

Jenny didn’t speak the entire way back. Well, she also didn’t speak on the way to the library, but it was a different type of silence. It was the kind that forced people’s primitive instincts to move away from the source of oncoming danger of an upset girl or woman. Fortunately, Mordecai had lived around confident, boisterous women for most of his life and was less scared of them.

He broke the ice, “So, I take it that Nathan isn’t exactly your favorite person?”

“Nope,” she responded tersely, her tail flicked back and forth.

“Aren’t you excited to have such a charismatic brother-in-law?” he drawled sarcastically.

“He isn’t my brother-in-law. He’s a stalker! He wouldn’t stop harassing my sister, so he started bothering Papa. When THAT didn’t work, he started bothering me when he realized I didn’t LIVE with Papa! And NOW he’s working at my favorite library and can prepare for when I come back to return these!” Jenny exclaimed and groaned, rubbing her hands down her face and rubbing her temples, “Ugh, let’s sit on that bench over there. My leg is sore from running away from my problems.”

This was the most impassioned he had heard her be and the most straightforward information about her family situation. He sat next to Jenny with the stack of books between them as a buffer.

“To be honest, I’m a little tired of being out of the loop when it comes to your family situation. ‘Brown’ is such a common name that it makes it impossible to investigate, and I can’t get straightforward information out of anyone at the Maribel about you.” Mordecai admitted.

“What do you mean?”

“So far, I’ve gotten a dressing down, gotten beat up, and had my job threatened for making inquiries.”

Jenny made a face, “That’s kinda dumb. Why didn’t you just come to me if you had questions?”

Mordecai opened his mouth and then closed it. Yes, why hadn’t he? Maybe it was because she was a child, and children didn’t give as concise information as adults. Then again, Jenny was obviously more intelligent than the average kit.

“Well, tell me about them, then.”

Her bad mood INSTANTLY disappeared.

“My sister is Neleva Kickapoo-Brown! Cool name, right? She’s a freelance rum runner mostly for the hotel, and we share a room there for rent. She, um, likes to joke that my spying for Asa covered utilities. Ha.
My papa’s name is Balendin. Nellie says he’s crazy, but I think he’s pretty great. I don’t know much… about… mom…” Jenny trailed off and squinted at Mordecai, “Are you okay?”

No, he wasn’t. He stared blankly ahead as memories came flooding back to him.

———

“Are you almost done?”

“Do you want them to look even?” Mordecai answered tersely, “For all you know, one is still lopsided— don’t blink!”

Mitzi was currently sitting on a stool in the Little Daisy cafe and had made the mistake of asking the tuxedo cat to do her eyeliner.

She pulled away, hopped off the stool, and looked at herself in her compact mirror.

“Oh, it looks fine, Heller!” she said and moved to unlock the shelf.

“It looks fantastic, you mean.”

Mitzi rose her arms in mock defense as soon as the secret passage opened up, “Yes, it does! Be a gentleman and walk me downstairs, would you?”

“Only because I don’t want to commit a faux pas in front of everyone,” he said flatly and let her hold his arm, “and speaking of that, what are you wearing?”

“Oh, this old thing?”

The fabric bracelet around her wrist clearly wasn’t old. The deep blue threads were beaded with intricate, geometric diamond designs. While interesting, it didn’t match Mitzi’s usual dresses and jewelry.

“Yes, that ‘old thing.’”

“It’s just a show of good faith for the club’s potential backer.”

Lackadaisy had only been open for a few months, but it’s plain experience didn’t stop people from coming.
He supposed there was some charm that it was a literally underground club with plenty of room for big crowds.

He moved to Atlas’ private table to stand next to Victor, but was surprised that Asa Sweet wasn’t there. Instead, there was a mountain of a man— easily about two feet and change taller than the orange Maine Coone.
His… unique look didn’t help his presence. He was wearing a deep blue suit with buttons, cuff links, and a tie pin all made from emerald of all things. Rich, rich, filthy rich.

Mitzi pulled him back and whispered to him, “be nice, he’s a potential investor! If he ropes you into small talk, just ask about his interior decorating.

Mordecai raised an eyebrow. It certainly wasn’t a traditionally masculine endeavor, but then again, he wasn’t to judge. He made sure his clothes were always ironed, could cook, and kept any space he had tidy.
Plus, the hubris of rich people would definitely feed into the ability to buy the best furniture to suit one’s aesthetics.

Mitzi let go of his arm and grabbed a bottle of wine from the bar on her way to saunter over to the three men.

“Hello, darling” she pecked Atlas’ cheek and sat beside him.

“Mr. Brown, this is my wife, Mitzi. Mitzi, this is Mr. Balendin Brown.”

“How do you do?” she said, deliberately holding out her hand with the handkerchief.

Balendin leaned down far to politely kiss it, but paused when he saw her accessory.

“My goodness, I do believe this is one of my daughter’s pieces!”

“Is it?” her face dropped to an excited, disbelieving tone. It was then Mordecai realized that she was trying to relate to Mr. Brown through his aesthetics. Instead, she hit the jackpot of coincidences.

“Yes, she does love beading. A college friend of her’s sells them at a boutique.”

“Yelena’s Beauties?” Atlas asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes! My Nellie is here tonight, you know. It was her 21st birthday yesterday, so I brought her along.”

If Mitzi was happy before, now she was absolutely elated. She asked innocently and held up the bottle, “how does she like it so far? Wine?”

“Yes, thank you— and she’s loving it, as you can see,” he jovially said and pointed to the bar.

They all looked for a black and white cat like Balendin drinking, but soon realized he was gesturing toward a small crowd cheering someone on.

“Oh my God, she just finished number twelve!” they heard a flapper exclaim.

Balendin perked up, “Did they say twelve? Ah, I owe her fifty dollars. We made made a bet that she wouldn’t make it past five shots.”

Their small group looked back at Balendin in surprise. Fifty dollars was no small amount, and the man was using it as betting money with his kid!

“And that’s—“ Mitzi was interrupted by a loud ‘fifteen’ from the crowd “—your daughter?”

“Mm, yes that’s where she was,” Balendin shrugged and then turned to Mordecai, “but would you mind checking, young man? If anything, you can disperse the crowd.”

Mordecai bristled, “I am not—“

“Mordecai,” Atlas spoke up and stared at him. The way the grey man was looking at him spoke for itself. And with that unspoken order, he turned around and walked to the bar.

He managed to dodge dancers, gamblers, and drunkards to get to the crowd. He couldn’t find an opening in, and he was not going to wiggle past the mass of bodies. Fortunately, the crowd slowly dispersed once patrons realized that he, a part of security, was there.
A job under Atlas May and a practiced glare truly did open doors for respect and fear.

Finally, finally, he made he spotted the girl. She was certainly… something. From what he could see, her hair was a light brown and her fur tan. Her hair was in two thick, long braids. It certainly didn’t match the bobs and waves on the other flappers, and her bronze dress was wrinkled.
She revealed more of her face when she lifted her head back to take another shot. A long snout with stripes under her eyes.
This couldn’t be her.

“‘Nother shot f’me and a round for all my friends here! Put it on Brown’s tab!” the young woman gestured toward where Mr. Brown was sitting.

Nevermind, it was her.

As the excited crowd dispersed to get their free drinks, he took a moment to sit on the stool next to her. He could’ve stayed standing, but he was admittedly curious.

“Are you Ms. Brown?”

She slowly turned her amber gaze towards him. Her tiny pupils made them seem much larger than they really were. She seemed to be rolling the question around in her ahead and scoffed, “Yeah, I guess I am.”

“I’m Mordecai Heller. Your father sent me to check on you.”

“Stepfather,” she scowled.

“Noted,” he rolled his eyes at the drunkard, “so if you would please, I think you’ve had enough.”

“Ugh, y’sound just like that rich bastard. All he’s good for iz his money. And it doesn’t help that you look a lot the old man, either, but small. I don’t think he ever waz shmall.”

“I beg your pardon?” Mordecai lifted an eyebrow.

“Y’know, black fur, green peepers, and the whiteness under the eyes n’ tip o’ the tail. Oh, and the eyebrows too. His look hhhhhappier, though. Any relation? Because you really shouldn’t be hitting on me.”

Mordecai looked at Balendin for a moment and made a displeased noise from being compared to the eccentric giant. “It’s but a coincidence. And I am not hitting on you.”

“That’s very responsible of you. Because… want to know a secret?” she ran her thumb around the rim of a shot glass.

When he didn’t answer, her face into into a smirk and whispered, “I’m only nineteen.”

“Don’t you mean twenty-one?” He mumbled grouchily to the drunk woman.

“Nnnnope!” She popped the ‘p’ and continued while grinning, “Just started my second year of college. But apparently I was twenty-one last year and the year before that. He never… remembers… anything, that nut case.”

“Drinking underage is illegal, you know.”

Nellie rolled her lidded eyes and gestured around them, “so is being inshide—inshide—inside a speakeasy, dummy. You’re thinking of the ‘good ol’ days.’”

Mordecai looked to the side. He certainly did call the kettle black in that moment.

“C’mon, help me down and walk me back to my Balen-dad. I know what I want for my birthday present.”

Before he could protest, she grabbed both of his arms and pulled him into the crowd, “Better yet, let’s dance, a bit!”

“NO! No, no, no!” Mordecai exclaimed and tried to pull away. However, she was much stronger than she looked, so he was forced to balance himself to avoid her drunken movements taking them both down.

When they made it to Atlas’ table, Mitzi was amused enough to teasingly clap for them. What sense of dignity he had was squashed.

“Nellie, I assume?” asked an amused Atlas.

Nellie gave the Mays an over-the-top curtsy, “In the absolutely drunk flesh.”

She shot up with a wobble and gave her hand out to Balendin, who gave her fifty dollars. That’s right, the bet.

“And here’s a tip for you, Mr. Heller, for getting my daughter—“ Mordecai watched Nellie flinch and grab the wine bottle from the table— “back safe,” while holding out a bill to him, as well.

Mordecai was too busy being shocked at Nellie chugging the bottle of wine to notice how much he was given. When he did, his eyebrows shot up to realize that it was one hundred dollars.

He looked back at Nellie, who was staring into the distance groggily, “What was I going to say?”

Mordecai hid his nerves as he gracefully tucked the shocking bill into a suit pocket while telling her, “You said something about a birthday present.”

Nellie snapped her fingers and drawled out, “that’s riiiight! Father, dearest, I know what I want for my birthday.”

Balendin visibly perked up at being called father and looked down at his stepdaughter, “Anything for one of my girls; what is it?”

“This place,” she gave a full sweep of her arm around Lackadaisy, “is fantastic! But it’s a bit green, y’know?”

Balendin chuckled, “All of the speakeasies are a ‘bit green,’ right now, dear.”

“Are all of them in cccccaves? No! Do they have charming pins?” She pointed to her club pin, “No! My birthday present is for you to give these beeeeau-ti-ful folks some money so they can make this place shine!”

Everyone was stunned.

“Um, are you sure dear?” Mitzi took the girl’s hand and patted it worriedly.

She nodded, grabbed Mitzi’s shoulders, and hugged her. Nellie leaned her head back to look at Mr. Brown upside down (making Mitzi give her a pseudo-dip), “Hurry, good man! Before they reject a check!”

“Of course, dear,” he laughed at her antics and started writing the check without a second thought, “and how much should I give them?”

“Ask her husband. I’m going back to the bar. Do you mind if I take this with me?” Nellie looked at Mitzi and lifted up the expensive wine bottle.

When Mitzi gave the go ahead, Nellie told Balendin to reimburse them for it before sauntering back into the crowd.

Mordecai remembered her tense words: “All he’s good for is money.”

She had played the role of doting daughter and milked the happy man of his cash. In the end, the Mays’ charm and business proposals were never needed.

A few months later, he saw her only once more: Atlas giving her money for a few crates she brought over in a truck. When he asked about it, Atlas told him to ignore her… if he ever spotted her, that is.

—

Mordecai finished telling the story to Jenny, who just nodded and stared ahead from her spot on the bench.

“I kind of remember that.”

“Hm?”

“That was the year mom left for her trip. Nel dropped out of school to take care of me in the ways that, you know, a dad can’t.”

Mordecai paused and let her continue.

“I had nannies. Papa has the money for that, but he was always a little distracted and distant. Nellie decided to become sister and mom. Please don’t think too badly of her, Mr. Heller, if you ever meet her again.”

Mordecai thought of his own fatherless life. The money in their lives was the biggest difference, but he understood Nellie a little more. He had to step up for his family, too.

Jenny let out a small sigh, “That’s enough emotion for today. Let’s go back.”

She made sure to throw away the pastries into the next trash can she saw.

Mordecai wasn’t sure if he managed to hide his tenseness, but it didn’t matter. By the time they got back to Jenny’s room, she rushed inside and slammed the door behind her. Mordecai rolled his eyes— she hadn’t taken her books from him yet. Plus, he had some questions that needed to be answered.

Mordecai left, but not before gently setting the stack of books by her door.

Chapter Text

The few things Nellie actually liked about college was the idea of being a modern woman, and here she was again, waiting for a job interview.

She sat in the little bench in the waiting area, situated next to the window. She hummed at the girls’ and boys’ rifle clubs practicing shooting. Every time one of them went off, the secretary flinched.

Nellie perked up when she said, “Ugh, I hate those clubs. Why couldn’t those young ladies stick with archery?”

“Maybe the arm bulk?” Nellie answered from across the room.

“Hm?”

“I was an archer before, during, and after I went to school here. Even string beans like me end up with a little more muscle from pulling the bow so much. That being said, those rifles aren’t exactly feather-light. Say, what’s your name, miss?”

“That… makes sense. And Stella,” the overwhelmed secretary said. She had been trying not to look at Nellie when she came in.

Stella saw her as a woman, obviously, but she was more handsome than pretty. It didn’t help that she had slacks on, loafers, and even a sweater vest pulled over a button down shirt.

“What job do you think I’m here for, Stella?”

“Pardon?”

“I know that you can tell a lot about someone by the way they dress. And I’m well aware that how I look definitely isn’t conditional,” Nellie gestured to herself and chuckled, “so what do you think I’m here to potentially do?”

Stella couldn’t guess. To be honest, this was her alma mater, too, and she remembered seeing Neleva from her school days. Everyone knew two things: she was rich and would never need to work a day in her life. Everyone assumed she found a husband when she stopped coming to school, yet here she was, all grown and here for a job.
She had never met a woman like Nellie and doubted she ever would again.

“Mr. Therren will see you now,” Stella said simply.

—

Clark Therren had been dean of the university for an nth number of years. He had seen the brightest minds graduate and was here to see the first of many young ladies enter. He had great respect for all of them and liked to believe they thought the same of him.
That is, all except for Neleva Brown. She had always shown outward disregard for the professors, students, and him when she attended.
She had the gall to request an interview with him, but he shut that down fast. The only reason he was now was because the school board had him do it. He supposed it paid to have a donator as a father.

“So, you’re looking for a job here? I heard you disappeared to get married.”

Nellie laughed at the assumption and clarified, “It was some family matters keeping me away from my diploma, Dean Therren.”

“Well, I’ll have to tell you that any TA openings for home ec are gone.”

“Oh, I’m not here to be a TA—“

“So a full-time teacher for home ec? That’s a bold ask, Ms. Brown, considering you never graduated.”

“I’m not here to—“

“And even if I let you in, there’s a matter of your apparel for the classes too.”

“I’m not hear to teach home ec, sir. I deeply respect the skill set, but I came back to teach archery” —a shot was heard from outside— “and be a rifle instructor. Here, I’ve put together the contract already.”

Nellie pulled a paper from her satchel and slid it towards him, “It lists my hours, a fair salary, and freedom to wear my slacks, among other things.”

Dean Theren stared at the paper and laughed loudly. He only stopped when it turned to coughs. When he looked up, Nellie’s pleasant smile had turned downward.

“Sir, sign the contract.”

“The intimidation act is very cute, Brown. I’m not signing anything, much less giving you work.”

“Yes, you will.”

“What?”

“Sir, in my time away from this institution, I’ve gotten chances to harness many practical, new skills— nothing at all from home ec,” Nellie paused, “I still enjoy sewing though.”

“What’s your point?”

“Oh, right. Sir, when you shot me down so quickly, I unfortunately had no choice but to secure the interview in a much more radical way. I had created a domino effect thought bribery, light maiming, and blackmail. The head of the board got me this meeting once he realized I had proof he is in a relationship with his priest. You will sign the contract because I know that you’ve been cheating on your wife of thirty years,” she said while putting several compromising photos in front of him in a tryst.

It took him a moment to comprehend everything before he started tearing up the photos. Nellie shrugged and put on some gloves.

“No need to spend energy like that. Those weren’t even the negatives, for God’s sake.”

“Get. OUT.”

“You really don’t realize the position you’re putting yourself in, Clark,” Nellie shook her head in disapproval. In a blink, she had whipped out a pistol from her bag and was aiming it at his head.

Instinctively, his fur rose and he put up his hands like he was a criminal.

“Don’t shoot me, Brown. There’s no need to be hysterical! Do you really want that blood on your hands?”

“If it belongs to an old man who is seeing a girl barely out of college, I wouldn’t object. She’s a legal adult, but really, Clark? An engaged 23-year-old? Tsk, tsk.”

“My secretary will hear you do it! The students out there will hear you!”

Nellie raised her eyebrow just as a bang came from the field, “I had this scheduled during rifle club for a reason, dumbass. And Stella’s out for the day. Once she said you could see me, she was more than happy to leave early when I gave her $300 to never have known I was here. Sign the contract.”

A few signatures later, Nellie was officially teaching the girls’ archery and rifle clubs.

She strutted through the campus with a little skip in her step. She couldn’t help but romanticize the idea of a job, but she grounded herself when she thought of Lacy.
She had met Jenny’s godfather’s secretary a handful of times, and Lacy was exhausted just being the assistant to one man. Nellie had no idea how she was going to handle a team of college kids.

She paused in the middle of the field and thought to her sister. “Oh,” she thought, “it’ll just be a bunch of taller versions. I can do that.”

Then she felt a bullet in her shoulder.

——

Ivy had wanted to go to St. Louis for the winter. Her dad had said no, but she’d already made the argument that she’d only apply for colleges in Missouri, so she may as well go early to check which ones had the most potential.
In retaliation, Ruby had actually gotten in contact with a friend of a friend of a friend who allowed her to take a winter semester a year early.
If it was school she supposedly wants, it was what she was getting.

Ivy took it in stride. If anything, she was ambitious. Plus, this university had a rifle club! It helped that she looked very stylish in the club’s uniform too. She wanted to get plenty of practice with guns so she could help Lackadaisy when it came to.

There was a mix up with schedules, so the girl’s and boy’s clubs had to share the field that day. Of course, this only ended with those guys showboating for their team.
While flattering, Ivy had no intention of dating any of them— they were all seniors and she was a minor, for goodness sakes!

The only one freshman on the team, Cecil, was an absolute prodigy at shooting. He was able to get bullseyes, shatter the clay pigeons in succession, and even knew trick shots!
Every now and then, he would look to her with this determined look with some obviously nervous undertones.

Cute, cute, cute, he was SO cute!

Her cheer for him surprised him so much that he pressed on the trigger early. In the completely other direction. Towards an unfortunate passerby.

The person was clutching her arm and was too in pain to decide on a cuss word. From across the field, all of the students heard a yell, “SON OF A BI— MOTHER FU— WHAT THE HELL!?”

Ivy was nearest to the first aid kit and ran towards them. She had seen enough of Atlas’s various workers injured and sometimes ended up assisting them with bandages.
With gun etiquette comes basic first aid.

“Are you okay!?” she panted. She could see it was a woman with some… interesting fashion choices.

“Mm-mm,” they grunted and gritted out, “‘Mind undoing my belt? You can use it—“

“Tourniquet! Yeah, I can do that!”

Ivy turned around and saw that the rifle instructor and BOTH teams had fled the crime scene. This effectively left her alone with a bleeding woman.

“Oh, raspberries,” she grumbled.

“Oof, that’s tight enough, kid. Walk me to my car?”

Ivy helped the tall woman up and could now get a better look at her and gasped, “Holy— are you Neleva Brown?”

“Neleva Kickapoo-Brown. But —urkhh— yup! Fuck, that smarts.”

“Language!” Ivy chided.

Nellie laughed and looked around, checking if the coast was clear before saying aloud, “Fuck, shit, crap, ass, bitch—“

“Quit that!” Ivy whined with a laugh.

“I do what I want, freshman. Besides —there’s my car, the lemon— I’m going to be the coach for the girls’ rifle team. Get used to me!”

“Oh my gosh! THE Neleva Brown—“

“—Kickapoo-Brown—“ Phooey, were her Native American roots still being glossed over? She needed to check the school’s trophy cabinet.

“Is gonna be my coach! The myth, the legend, the modern socialite!”

Nellie scrunched her nose.

Once upon a time she would’ve considered herself that way, but she had become more of a social menace. She spoke up when she saw her car, “There she is!”

Ivy grimaced at the sight of the lemon. It was dark blue, battered, and cover with rust. Weirdly enough, only the doors were in perfect condition. The familiar sound of keys and the driver’s side opening caught her attention. It only took a single glance to see that the interior of the sides had the same steel armor plating she had seen in many a car.

“What’s wrong?” Nellie asked from her seat, leaning out of the window,. With that, the younger girl spoke her mind.

“So, um… my name is Ivy Pepper and my dad is Reuben Pepper. Did he sell you this car?”

“I thought you looked familiar! Uh, yeah— Mr. Pepper let me take it off his hands for a couple hundred. The thing was so busted that he couldn’t reuse the parts for anything else.”

“…Are you a gangster or something? I’m not a kid, I know about what people get into— what my dad gets into,” Ivy whispered.

Before the pause could get too awkward, Nellie pursed her lips and made a so-so gesture.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, I don’t kill anybody” she lied, but tacked on a truth, “I just get some of the good stuff from different borders. I was a freelancer, I guess, before I got my job here.”

Ivy stuck her head inside and excitedly got in Nellie’s face, “You really ARE the bee’s knees!”

She tugged at her sweater vest, “I don’t suggest it as a steady job. On the other hand, your dad let me buy a TON of his old clothes, too!”

“I thought you looked familiar!” Ivy echoed Nellie’s earlier statement and continued, “If you take your stripes away and add a cap, you two would be like twins!”

“Speaking of siblings,” Nellie said and reached for her wallet’s photo, “this is mine!”

“She’s SO cute!” Ivy cooed at the kit’s big eyes and fancy dress. Strange, she had the same coat when SHE was this age…

“Wait, are those my outfits!?” Ivy said with confusion. The sepia tone of the photo made Nellie’s sister look eerily alike to what she looked like as a kid.

“Yup!” Nellie said with no shame, “Jenny is picky about the materials she wears and your dad said it wasn’t like you could wear them anymore.”

Ivy pinched the bridge of her nose. She was going to have a BIG talk with her dad the moment she could call him. All the same, it was flattering to think that such a miniature big-wig had taken a liking to her clothes.

“She does look really cute,” Ivy conceded and whispered, “Has she visited Lackadaisy?”

“Nah, the gang life definitely isn’t her scene, being a kid and all that,” Nellie said while turning on the car. She spoke loudly over the rickety engine. “But you’ll definitely see us if you enroll here. She and I are going to be living on campus soon!”

Ivy watched the woman drive off with stars in her eyes.